Wiped out

Even though overall I've started to have more and more good times, I know that this is not something that just suddenly will be all better.  Friday was pretty good, and Tynan and I even walked over to the grocery store for a couple of things for dinner and had a really nice talk.  Got home, cooked dinner and had plans to go over to Home Depot to get some flowers for the yard.  By the time dinner was over, and I just couldn't get off the couch.  I went from feeling great, to just being totally and completely wiped out.  That was pretty much how the rest of the weekend went.  Couldn't really do anything at all.  By last night, I had a killer headache that kept me up most of the night, and still has only slightly gotten better now.  Praying for a better night, and no headache in the morning.  I'd love to be able to get out of bed before noon. 

Seeing through the Fog

I've had a pretty good week.  It's kind of like a fog starting to lift for more and more of the day.  It was actually kind of sudden, which is what most people told me would happen because of the meds.  In the past week, I feel like I've gone from totally not caring about doing anything, to sort of wanting to want to do something, to kind of being able to do some things for small spurts of times.  In the past few months, I've been barely able to make myself do things that are essential, but this week I actually did some things that are not essential.  I did some yard work.  Only an hour, and I was so mentally exhausted I was shaky had to nap afterwards, but it was something that I wanted to do.  On Sunday I went to work, and it didn't feel so weird, or that I was forcing myself to be there.  I think that's been one of the worst part about all of this, something that I love so much feeling so hard.  On Monday, not only did I spend most of the day in planning/vision meetings with my team, but I went out to lunch.  It's the first time in months that I've gone somewhere other then the doctor, the church or the store (which has been limited as well).  I was nervous and shaky, and almost stayed back at the church but I made myself go.  It didn't take too long for me to relax, and I had fun just hanging out with my friends.  It was a real boost.   It's a good start. 

The quiet side of this journey: depression.

When my anxiety is not in full blown attack mode, but is cycling a bit, I will pace the house.  I can't sit still no matter how tired I am.  Even if I can make myself sit, I'm fidgeting.  The feeling is almost claustrophobic. The rest of the time, it's pretty much the opposite.  You know that feeling of just not wanting to do anything?  You just want to lay on the couch/bed and stare mindlessly at the tv or computer.  To put no effort into anything, and just rest.  Sure, everyone has days like that once in awhile.   Well, that's how I feel. Every day.  All day.  For weeks and weeks.  I feel like that started way before the anxiety part.  It's not like I feel all depressed and weepy for the most part, although it hits from time to time.  Just no desire to do anything at all.  It took me 15 minutes this morning to decide if I really had to use the bathroom enough to make the trip down the hallway.  And for those of you have been to my house, you know it's not like that's a big journey or anything.  Like 20-30 steps away from the couch.
Everything seems to take so much mental energy, more then I have most of the time.  It's not really a physical tiredness, but a mental one.    I worked Sunday morning, and had a good morning, but when I got home, I was exhausted.  So exhausted that I napped for 2 hours and then still couldn't make myself go back for the evening service.  I'm not really going anywhere very often, but when I do.  I have to rest before and after.  Talking on the phone, thinking about dinner, reading Tynan a book or playing a video game with him, or just going into the backyard just makes me mentally tired.  It's very hard to explain that it's really not physical tiredness.
All that being said, I feel like there have been more little spurts of energy the last few days.  Mornings have been especially hard, just trying to feel awake enough sometimes takes hours, but I feel like when I can get myself going, it's lasting a little longer, and not quite as hard.  Even taking a little initiative, and not just doing the complete bare minimum.  Not all the time, but sometimes.  Deep breaths, and pushing through. 

I choose to laugh at my crazy

So I had a bit of a rough day.   Actually, it seems as if mornings are the hardest.  I wake up dizzy from fluid in my ears (life long problem), with a mild headache and I usually haven't slept all that well anyway so I'm cranky and groggy feeling.   Pretty much every morning.   I feel jittery and weird, so that starts to freak me out a bit.  Which makes me dizzier and more jittery.  Do I pick up one of those little bottles that says "as needed" on it?  Sure.  And then I read the label that says "may cause dizziness" and I think to myself, I'm already dizzy I don't want to be dizzier and I put the bottle down. But you need it!  And I pick the bottle up.  But I don't want to need it!!  And so this cycle starts.  Walk into the room, walk out of the room.  Pick the bottle up, put the bottle down.  Open the bottle, close the bottle.  Today, I actually carried a pill around in my bra for most of the day.  Yeah.  I know.  Crazy.  It was a step closer, I guess.  (Actually, it kind of worked because I was able to just grab it and pop it into my mouth without over thinking it.)  This does not happen every day.  Sometimes I just need some deep breaths and prayer.  Sometimes I walk in the room, pop the pill and then go back to my deep breaths and prayer.  But sometimes, like this morning, I feel like I have the devil sitting on my shoulder whispering lies into my ear:  You are so weak.  You have more faith in that pill then you do in God.   You are a bad mom.  You are a bad wife.  You won't ever get past this.  And so on, and so on....  I long for a day that I can just wake up feeling normal. 
Over the past few weeks, and the past week especially, since I have come out of the mental health closet so-to-speak, I have gotten so many messages from people who have battled this.  Godly men and women, who have told me about their struggle, either in the past or currently.  Some I knew about, some that surprised me.  Overall, a lot of support.  And why not?  Why was I expecting only a smattering of support?  Why was I expecting to be looked down on or ignored?  And why do I care?  Just because those little pills are for something that can't be seen but is still very, very real?  Ridiculous!  It's ridiculous for me to care what other people think, but sometimes I do.  It's ridiculous for me to have anxiety about the anxiety meds, but I sometimes do.  The whole stinkin thing is ridiculous.   So I will laugh at the crazy when I can, because God made me, and shaped me.  And has a plan for this.  Even this.  One of the devotionals I got last week had a prayer in it, "Lord, I praise You, for Your mercy is everlasting.  Help me to remember that every battle in this life is Yours.  The outcome belongs to You because You are sovereign."  Every battle.  Every battle.  Even this. 

Facing it

October 9th was the last full day that I was oblivious to cancer. Oh, I knew it happened: to other families. He's just a little under the weather, right?  By the next morning, we knew it was more then that, by afternoon, the word was being whispered. Just after midnight on October 11th, 2006, after hours at Urgent Care, Chandler Regionals ER, and then finally an ambulance ride and admittance to Banners children's oncology floor, a big bearded doctor walked into the room and told us that our sweet boy would have to fight this horrible beast. 
I remember almost every minute of those days in crazy detail, as well as the days and weeks that followed. Like watching a nightmare in slow motion that I have to still remind myself is real. Very real.  I sometimes have to say it out loud. "My Trevor had cancer and it killed him."  Sometimes I pray to wake up, and realize it was a bad dream. That I walk into the living room and see this big 11 year old boy sitting on the couch.  What on earth would that be like?
But that is not my reality, so as I said in my Facebook post the other day:  I refuse to keep this struggle hidden anymore.   For years I've been fairly open about the thoughts and feelings that I have with Trevor's loss, at least at the beginning. For the most part, more recently I have guarded myself with that, and with pretty much everything else. Or just told part of it, the less messy part or the part that I felt was relatable to whatever. No more. This weekend, while pacing the living room at 3 in the morning after a doozy of a panic attack that hit as I was trying to sleep, I was praying and suddenly stopped dead in my tracks.  I had been crying out to God, "What am I going to do, what am I going to do???" and it was almost a voice that said NO MORE HIDING.  
The past has been full of ups and downs, and I now have to admit to myself that the past year or so, I have pretended to be up more times then I actually was.  Pushed it away, and put on the face of "fine" when I felt anything but.  The past few months, as my reflux issues really got bad,  and there were some other big events in our lives, I stopped being able to pretend as often, and so I avoided dealing with it.  Avoided phone calls, avoided situations.  Just avoided.  Just chalking it up to not feeling well or being busy with doctor appointments and such, and while that was the truth to a degree, it was not all of it.  Small stresses, big stresses, anger and depression about so many things just starting piling on top of each other to make one big crushing load.  I swing from feeling totally indifferent to everything at best, to sadness, to heart-racing, nausea inducing panic attacks that hit so randomly sometimes.  I feel so very, very broken.  I know in my heart that Jesus fixes broken people, that there's hope of feeling normal again.  It seems like a insurmountable task right now, though.  Mostly because I'm not sure I remember what feeling normal is like.  I feel like this has been a long time coming, way before even Trevor got sick.  I can think of many times in my life where I pushed it away as being hormonal or something, and since it only lasted a few days, it didn't really get in the way of life.  It's not fine anymore, and it's very much getting in the way of life.  I thank those of you who have already reached out to me, to remind me that I'm not alone.    So if you ask how I'm doing, watch out, you may get dumped on.  Or you may get nothing as many days I really don't know how I'm feeling.